


Happy New Year

by Gumnut



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Action, Family, Gen, New Year's Eve, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 18:17:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17228849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gumnut/pseuds/Gumnut
Summary: Not your average new year's eve.





	Happy New Year

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Happy New Year  
> A TAG Secret Santa fic  
> Author: Gumnut  
> 27 - 30 Dec 2018  
> Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS  
> Rating: Teen  
> Summary: Not the average new year’s eve.  
> Word count: 3439  
> Spoilers & warnings:   
> Timeline: Standalone  
> My prompt was: How the Tracy family celebrate Christmas and new year  
> Author’s note: Okay, this fic is a little weird and I’m not sure it answers the prompt, but it is what happened when I started typing. I hope you enjoy it anyway. And I hope you all have a fantastic new year :D  
> Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

_Ten...the match caught and flickered in the breeze. She caught it, wrapping it with her hands, nursing it to the candle, and letting out a breath as flared into life._

Module Four hit the surface of the North Pacific Ocean and immediately started rolling in the swell. Thunderbird Two’s heavy-duty spotlights tracked it as it was tossed about.

“Gordon, you okay?”

“Riding it out. Though I have to say, I’m glad I didn’t over indulge at dinner.” Virgil watched as all the module indicators flicked to green. “We are go for module deployment.”

“Make it fast. That swell is unpredictable.” He would have preferred to have lowered TB4 using the grapples, but the wind gusts were more problematic than the swell. As if to reassure him of his decision, TB2 was suddenly swiped sideways. He compensated hurriedly, bringing her back to stability, her lights once again training on the module. It was the better of two poor choices.

The undersea habitat didn’t have a choice, so here they were, in the pitch dark of the last hour of the year, attempting to fish more scientists out of the deep.

The weather was not cooperating.

Gordon lowered the ramp, and with a speed he would not usually deploy, shot off into the cold and turbulent water.

Virgil grunted as the wind caught his girl again.

Module retrieval was going to be a bitch.

-o-o-o-

_Nine...she took the first candle from its holder and gently tilted it towards its brother. The two wicks touched and flickered. The two became one._

Space is silent, but it isn’t. There is always some kind of machinery functioning to keep life alive. Whether it be Thunderbird Three herself, or his own helmet, Alan was always accompanied by sound.

At this very moment, it was his own swearing.

“Goddamnit, move!”

But the airlock refused to obey. Likely fused shut by the explosion that had set the ship adrift, it was between him and the three remaining life signs. He had to get it open, their life support was failing.

“John, what are the chances of me cutting through this?”

“Not great. It is reinforced. Have you tried the Claw?”

The Claw, complete with a capital C, was a piece of equipment designed by Virgil based on his exo-suit. Virgil rarely made it out into space, but there was occasionally the need for heavy lifting out in the void. It used a grip attached to a thruster pack and could be deployed to create force in any direction.

“It was next on my list.”

“You’ve got nine minutes left.”

“Working on it.” He pulled in his equipment pack, tethered to his sled, and grabbed the Claw. Fastening the grip onto the airlock wheel, he deployed the thruster pack to give the correct directional push.

And the wheel refused to budge.

-o-o-o-

_Eight...the first candle flickered haphazardly, once again teased by the breeze as she moved it to the second of its brethren. She smiled just slightly as it, too, caught and flared._

“How do they expect me to catch something I can’t see?!”

It was muttered at his instruments and he didn’t expect an answer. All his scanning equipment was trained ahead attempting to locate the hidden exhaust of an experimental plane deployed by the GDF. It would have been an interesting experiment, if the pilot wasn’t currently trapped inside. It was codenamed Nighthawk because the plane was designed to work best at night - apparently testing it during the day would have made Scott’s rescue attempt a little too easy. So here he was after dark, on New Year’s Eve of all nights, flying over the back end of New South Wales attempting to find an invisible plane.

Yet again, International Rescue was the only organisation with the mechanical guts to fix the GDF’s problems.

It pissed him off big time.

His sensors flickered, his arms moved, and Thunderbird One darted to starboard. For just a moment he had the craft clear as day in his sights.

Then it was gone again.

It was only a matter of time before it crashed. He could communicate with the pilot, but the signals were scrambled and misdirected and no use for locating anything. When the GDF screwed up, they screwed up big time.

“C’mon, c’mon!” He brought TB1 to a hover, every sensor combing the darkness around him.

A flicker.

Another.

Nothing.

A godawful metallic screech as something impacted his ‘bird’s hull on the port side. She swung around, spun on her axis, and suddenly Scott was in free fall.

-o-o-o-

_Seven...the third candle wouldn’t catch. She bit her lip, and prayed just a little. The breeze threatened._

John Tracy wished he had more hands. Two were not enough when he had four brothers - one in space, one underwater, and two in the air.

“Scott! You need altitude! Impact in twenty seconds.”

His brother grunted as his hologram grimaced, fighting the controls of his ‘bird.

John didn’t need a damage report, TB5 provided him with all too much detail. Damage to Thunderbird One’s port side VTOL and flight stabiliser had her in a spin.

“She’s not responding.”

“You’ve got additional weight on your port side.” John’s fingers flew across the hologram, attempting to ascertain exactly what the readings were trying to tell him. Damn. “You have a mass embedded in her superstructure, despite the fact we can’t see it.” Calculations. “You’re going to have to attempt to land vertically. Use your rear thrusters to support the imbalance.”

It wasn’t going to be easy. Thunderbird One wasn’t designed to be anywhere vertical but on her gantry, but there was no way Scott would be able to sustain a horizontal landing.

“FAB, Thunderbird Five.” It was said through gritted teeth.

He couldn’t help but think that if Thunderbird Two had been sharing the same airspace as her sister, she could have pulled her out of her dive.

But she wasn’t.

And John was left to watch.

-o-o-o-

_Six...the third wick absolutely refused to light and her heart clenched. Let it rest a moment. She moved onto the fourth candle and touched the flame to the waxed cotton._

Night rescues weren’t really out of the ordinary, but they could be eerie. As he left the reach of Thunderbird Two’s powerful spots, he had to rely on the illumination his own Thunderbird could emit. And Thunderbird Four could shine a considerable wattage.

Underwater nightlife was a whole different ocean full of fish in comparison to that under daylight. Despite being in the middle of open ocean, this particular spot was above the very top of a great undersea mountain, just high enough to support the beginnings of a temperate reef system. No doubt one of the reasons the mobile observatory was in the area.

“Undersea Habitat Victor-Two-Zero-Romeo, this is Thunderbird Four, do you read me?”

The line crackled a moment, but a female voice gasped and answered. “Oh, thank god. We are down to our last module. Please hurry.”

“FAB, ma’am. I’m on approach. Can you give me any further detail on the cause of the problem?”

“It won’t go away and keeps attacking.”

Gordon frowned. “What won’t go away?”

“The whale.”

“A whale?!” And his spots lit up the damaged habitat. It looked as if it had been pummelled with a giant baseball bat. Of the five interconnected modules, only one had any sign of life. “Why would a whale attack you?”

But he didn’t get a chance to listen to her answer as his spots lit up a giant mass of flesh, an eyeball, and suddenly Thunderbird Four was rolling.

-o-o-o-

_Five...when the fourth candle refused to light, she took firmer measures and turned to the iron fire pot and touched the first candle to paper. It burst into flame._

“Alan, you’ve got incoming debris!”

“What?!”

But John didn’t need to repeat himself as the first of the projectiles tore through the space in front of his helmet and ricocheted off the hull of the space freighter, narrowly missing his arm.

“Shit!”

“Take cover. Freighter’s starboard side. Now.”

Alan grabbed the Claw and flipped himself vertically to thrust in the right direction and tore around the engine compartment of the ship and hid in a crevice directly opposite the incoming stream. “Where the hell did that come from?”

“Apologies, Alan, I didn’t catch it early enough.”

Alan sighed. He knew his brother was stretched thin at the moment. Apparently dangerously thin. He should have been paying more attention himself.

“We’re down to five minutes.”

“I know.” Silent impacts thundered around him. “Is there any other way in that doesn’t require me to be swiss cheesed?”

“Only the maintenance hatch you dismissed earlier.”

“We may not have a choice.” Alan sighed. “I’ll see what I can do, but it is going to be tight. It wasn’t meant for ship access.” But he would make it work.

Grabbing the Claw and his laser cutter, Alan darted out from his crevice and along the length of the ship, hiding in its shadow. A snap of a carabiner and he was secured once again.

“Okay, you hunk of junk, I’m going to kick your ass.”

-o-o-o-

_Four...The breeze was stronger and the first candle flickered out, leaving just the one burning, flickering sporadically. She added fuel to the fire pot._

The flash was blinding and Virgil swore.

Lightning wasn’t a problem, but the storm was. “Gordon, you need to make this quick, the weather is deteriorating faster than we anticipated. He swore again as a nasty downdraft attempted to shove the cargo plane into the turbulent ocean.

The module below was being thrown about like a cork. Virgil made the decision. “Thunderbird Four, I am submerging the module. You will need to dock underwater.” His fingers darted across controls as Thunderbird Two shuddered through another nasty downdraft. Below, the mechanics of Module Four started pumping water and it slipped beneath the waves to hover at a depth that would protect it from the turbulence.

“FAB, Virgil - Shit!”

“Gordon?”

“We have a pissed off whale down here!”

Virgil watched as his readouts tracked Thunderbird Four. She was darting, rolling and suddenly shoved sideways by massive lifesign. He grit his teeth, unable to do anything to help.

-o-o-o-

_Three…she built up the fire pot until it was a massive towering flame._

Scott yanked the lever backwards and let off a prayer to the god of pilots.

Thunderbird One attempted to respond, and he grit his teeth. “C’mon.” Without her port thruster, getting her vertical was a challenge. “C’mon, damnit.” The extra weight dragged and she refused to stabilise.

The air was dark around him, but his instruments were screaming altitude loss and collision warnings, his cockpit lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Goddamnit, fly!”

-

Gordon swooped around the mass of angry whale. What the hell was his problem. And it was definitely a ‘he’, a full-on bull sperm whale, a very unhappy one.

He ran through whale behaviours in his head as he swooped and dove towards the habitat. A hand darted across his instruments, searching...

-

Alan hit the hatch with his fist in frustration. Grip, for crying out loud!

He was down to three minutes to get these guys out and he still hadn’t made it into the damn ship yet.

There was no sound in space, other than the scream in his own helmet as suddenly the entire side of the ship was torn away, a chunk of rock tearing through its hull.

The Claw spun off into space.

-

John bit through his lip, his concentration total on all four brothers. One hand played his holographic controls like Virgil played his piano, data shunted off to where it was desperately needed at the flick of a finger. The other spun between views, scans and acquired information at the full speed his highly advanced Thunderbird could manage.

“Virgil! Waterspout!” And the information was shunted directly to TB2.

-

“Waterspout?! What the hell!” Thunderbird Two groaned as he forced her sideways out of the path of the anomaly. The crosswinds were shit, and she dipped noseward. Damnit!

He kicked in her rear thrusters, killed the VTOL and tore across the ocean in an arc, circling around to return for pickup. She bucked like a rebellious mare.

-o-o-o-

_Two...she grabbed all five doused candles in one fist._

Gordon swore again as the whale clipped him on one side. “Okay, I’ve had enough of this. Undersea Habitat Victor-Two-Zero-Romeo, I want you to kill all transmissions. All kinds. I want you silent as the grave.”

“What?”

He spun TB4 on her axis. “Now. If I think what is happening is happening this is your own fault, do what I say!”

He sighed as all transmission bands went silent. He scanned the full spectrum. No....no...ah, damn there it was. “I said all of them!” And it finally disappeared.

Another dodge of a whale fluke and Gordon peeled off in a curve.

-

Alan tasted blood. He had bitten clean through his cheek. He spun slowly in space, the ship in front of him sporting a jagged hole in its side.

Just big enough for an astronaut to crawl through.

Two minutes and counting...

-

Thunderbird One bucked like a mule, but he finally managed to get her vertical enough to fire her rear thrusters. Their plummet slowed.

The holographic ground was still coming up fast.

-

Virgil homed in on the module’s signal, finding once again his place in space. Lightning flashed in warning.

-

John held his breath. Seconds ticked by...

-o-o-o-

_One...with determination she thrust all five wicks into the roaring flame of the fire pot. Burn damn you._

Scott yelled as his thrusters made contact with solid ground.

Gordon flicked a control and Thunderbird Four sung into the darkness.

Alan dove into the ship, calling out in desperation.

Virgil swore yet again as Thunderbird Two bucked.

John wished he could close his eyes.

-o-o-o-

_All five candles burst into vibrant flame, the five merging into one, defying the breeze, taking on the energy of the fire pot and burning strongly._

Just as midnight passed over Tracy Island, Sally Tracy separated out the five candles and placed each of them in their holders. She smiled just slightly as each eagerly leapt up brightly, dancing.

“Grandma? Have you heard anything from John?” Kayo walked across the comms room towards the balcony where Sally had set up the fire pot. The breeze tousled her hair as it lay loose around her shoulders.

“Not in the last ten minutes.”

Kayo came up close and hugged her. “Happy New Year, Grandma.”

She kissed her granddaughter on her cheek. “Happy New Year, honey.”

-o-o-o-

 

_Epilogue_

As dawn lit up the sky on Tracy Island, the sun was witness to five very tired brothers flying home. Thunderbird Two had Thunderbird One grasped under her undercarriage, the severely damaged craft sporting a massive dent in her port side. Her pilot sat very unhappily beside Virgil in the cockpit of TB2. Gordon was asleep in the seat behind them.

The sky roared as the great red rocket of Thunderbird Three tore out of re-entry and spun in for landing.

She was followed by the ever-silent drop of the elevator from Thunderbird Five.

Virgil lowered his brother’s ‘bird to the side of TB2’s runway. He and Brains, and no doubt Scott, would be out later to assess the damage and plan repairs. As fast as possible. Scott was intolerable when his ‘bird was down.

He rolled his shoulders as he brought his own ‘bird into land. There would be no shortage of checks to be done on Thunderbird Two, either. Gordon was already complaining about the work to be done on both TB4 and Module Four, and he wasn’t even fully awake.

Thunderbird Two spun in her hanger and he powered her down.

All three brothers sighed.

“Debrief in ten?”

Scott muttered an affirmative and while Virgil ran through post flight, his brothers crawled out of their seats and headed up to the villa.

In the distance, Thunderbird Three roared as she docked in her hanger.

-o-o-o-

“The idiots were emitting random noise on a frequency that could have been designed to piss off a sperm whale. Once I had them kill it off, I dug up something that would interest, but keep that same whale calm, and I led him off. When he was gone, it was easy to grab the three idiots. We docked with the module, surfaced, and then had wonder pilot over here do his retrieval magic. I have to say, Virgil, that was some damn fine manoeuvring.”

Virgil blinked at the unexpected praise. Gordon must be seriously tired. “Thank you. I admit it wasn’t easy, but we made it in one piece. Brains, I will need to do some thorough checks on the grapple launchers and the module connectors, they were put under some serious strain.”

The engineer nodded.

Scott blinked as if he was having trouble keeping his eyes open. “Good job, Gordon, Virgil.” He turned to their youngest brother and frowned. Virgil followed his gaze and found Alan asleep in the corner of the couch.

“I can report for Alan.” John looked as tired as Virgil felt. “All the crew of the freighter were saved. In spite of the unexpected debris storm Alan encountered. Virgil, he will need a new Claw. He might have some modification requests on that front as well. “John yawned. “Sorry, full report will be available as soon as I’ve had enough sleep.”

“Scott, your turn.” And despite himself, Virgil yawned as well.

“I’ll keep it short. Stop doing that.” And Virgil grinned as Scott caught the yawn bug. “The GDF night camouflage is pretty damn good. I had a lot of trouble locating their craft. That problem was solved by said ship colliding with Thunderbird One’s port side. You’ve seen the damage. She’s down for repairs. We’ll know for how long as soon as Brains has a chance to assess it. Pilot was a lucky bastard and survived with only minor injuries. Apparently, the camouflage works both ways and navigation from inside the ship is extremely difficult. It’s back to the drawing board for the GDF.” And he spat the acronym. “Brains, you might want to check out One’s logs on what she could detect. All I can say is that Thunderbird Shadow walks all over them.” There was no shortage of smugness in that statement either.

Accompanied by another yawn.

“Well done everyone.”

They all muttered something congratulatory, punctuated by another round of yawns.

“Oh, and Happy New Year.”

A couple of grunts followed that.

“Get some sleep and we’ll look at throwing some belated fireworks.”

More grunting.

“Dismissed.”

Virgil stood up with creaking bones and stumbled towards the stairs.

And almost collided with his grandmother.

“Oh, so sorry, Grandma.” He steadied her with one hand, suddenly aware of four brothers lining up behind him. In the corner of his eye, Alan was wobbling with Gordon holding one of his arms to keep him steady.

Grandma grabbed him in a hug. “Happy New Year, Virgil.”

He startled and immediately returned the embrace, dropping his chin onto her head and holding her tight. “Happy New Year, Grandma.” He kissed her hair. His eyes darted to his brothers, all four frozen to the spot.

She let him go, but looked up at him and smiled, before darting to Scott and repeating the process.

Virgil frowned, staring just a little as she moved from one brother to another, wishing each of them a Happy New Year and hugging intensely.

His attention was suddenly drawn away, however, as, silent as always, Kayo appeared and wrapped her arms around him. “Happy New Year, Virgil.”

His eyes widened, but he hugged her and wished her the same. She smiled up at him and then, just like Grandma, moved onto Scott and, hugging him, wished him a Happy New Year.

Virgil simply stared.

Once all the brother hugging had been completed, both women stood back and Grandma started ushering them up the stairs. “Well, off to bed with you. We can celebrate later tonight.” She smiled at all of them.

Kayo’s smile was a little smaller, but just as genuine.

Virgil decided he was too tired to work out what the hell was going on. He turned and began to tackle the stairs. He would think after he had slept.

-o-o-o-

Sally watched her boys climb the stairs wearily.

They were home safe. Tired, but safe.

So far it had been a good year.

-o-o-o-

FIN.


End file.
